Red Desire
by teasetillyoudrop
Summary: Dick/Bruce. A mission in female disguises leads to much enjoyment. lj-meme crossdressing


Crimson lips quirk up in dark humor from a few feet away as Dick downs another glass of cheap champagne, cheaper than they should be serving, in order to look oblivious to the lecherous hand resting on his hip.

Tries not to snort, unfeminine, when Bruce giggles with an ill-hidden baritone and swaps an inebriated hand trying to cop a feel.

"Come on, baby," the drunk politician stinking of booze tugs on Dick's cocktail dress to grab his attention, "What's so interesting out there you can't play with daddy?"

"Oh honey," Dick gives his best, drag-queen stereotype voice full of sass and attitude, "I don't think your wife would like our playing."

"What's my wife got to do with it?" The drunk continues, listing his way, as if Dick's body language didn't say anything but no.

"I'm looking for another, unattached friend to play with," Dick tries to dance away from grabby fingers with a frown marring his dressed up face.

"No one's getting hurt if we have a little fun."

"Not if I break a finger," Bruce walks up to them, looking ridiculously handsome in an elaborate corset and a skin tight pencil dress.

"What says you,_ tranny_?" The belligerent man grabs what he can from Bruce's top, brave aggression despite Bruce's taller and larger build.

Bruce clutches the offending hand, flexes his grip hard enough for Dick to wince for the poor man.

"S-Stop!" The man pleads, crumpling a little from the pain.

"Then show respect," Bruce gives him a full on Batglare, tempered only a little by the feminine disguise. Grunts when the politician tries to punch him. The man stumbles when his punch meets nothing but air before wandering off to hound another one of the entertainments with a frustrated whore mumbled under his breath.

"Well he didn't learn," Dick parks himself besides Bruce, fixing his dress as if they weren't already perfect, "I think you just blew our cover."

"He's too drunk to remember anything," Bruce gives him an aristocratic raise of a plucked brow when the man saunters off with another escort.

"Point taken. Now what?" Dick reaches over, tries to right the mess on Bruce's chest. The red top of the dress looks too crumpled to be good looking under the darker corset, so he tries his best to shift it under the constraints.

"We wait," Bruce takes a deep breath, enough for his constricted, fake cleavage to move under Dick's faltering fingers. Just enough room to move the dress underneath. And enough to catch Dick's attention.

"I…" Dick swallows, pulls the front of Bruce's dress to rest properly in place, "We haven't seen any sign of him."

"Rewards come to those who wait," Bruce continues, scanning the crowd above his head.

"If you say so," Dick pats his work, lingers for a bit, before giving them both some space, "See you later then?"

Bruce eyes flash, gives Dick once over, too fast to be sexual, too slow to be just cursory, "Yes. Take care."

"Will do boss." Dick saunters off, hoping he's giving a show.

By the end of the second hour with no sighting of their mark, Dick's all types of tired fighting off bored men and tragically lonely women of Gotham's elite. He's itchy from the dress's back zippers and the pantyhose Bruce said was necessary to complete the disguise.

He's used to the skin tight feeling of lycra and spandex, but somehow the leg covers are more clingy and uncomfortable, feeling like fine sand paper rubbing all over his legs.

He hasn't seen Bruce since they parted and worry churns in his gut.

Bruce may not be the most beautiful compared to the women and men they're trying to blend with, but Dick sure as hell thinks he's the most breathtaking. Square, manly shoulders clashing with his elegant red dress, alert blue eyes surrounded by smoky black eye shadow. And attractive sardonic lips covered by alluring crimson.

That thought has Dick fidgeting in his place near the ballroom entrance door. He excuses himself from an attractive, younger man who's been trying to woo him with his endless supplies of hotrods and foreign mansion and weaves through the crowd to where he'd left the older man.

Dick finds him drinking with a group of interested heartstruck men, all eating up the fake lashes and coy smiles. Bruce takes a delicate sip after playfully batting an unknown man's shoulder before noticing him. "Oh," Bruce looks remorseful, "It seems I must be going gentlemen, my dear Rachel has come to take me home."

Dick hears appreciative murmurs coming from the crowd while they look him up and down. Does his best heartbreaking smile while he walks up to Bruce, "Sorry gentlement, my Violet and I must go."

Another round of words, this time of can I call you and why so soon, as Bruce apologizes and loops his left arm around Dick's right, "Perhaps another time," Bruce waves goodbye at the frustrated men as they walk towards the entrance.

"Waste of time!" Dick pulls off the annoying blond wig he forgot he had on, before flinging it across the batcave floor. He'll need to pick it up later, but for now frustration wins against his inner Alfred.

"Not necessarily," Bruce appears beside him, stopping Dick's destructive disrobing, "We've learned things…"

"That most of Gotham's high ranking men are pigs?" Dick snorts.

"That he's not interested in just cross dressers," Bruce pulls gently at Dick's gloves, "He's interested in younger."

Dick ignores his stuttering heart, "How'd you figure that?"

"There were two of these parties planned, one that caters our body type…" Bruce moves behind him, fingers pulling the black zipper down the sea of navy blue, "And another that caters Tim's age and younger."

"What?" Dick spins in place, fights a little with the dress barely hanging as it droops around his waist. "What do you mean Tim's age?"

"Tim's mission," Bruce turns around from him, brandishing laced ribbons.

Dick wants to strangle him with the ribbons he's unraveling, "You mean Tim's alone."

"Robin's with him," Bruce pushes back against Dick's paused fingers. "You spoke of trust."

"Yeah, but not with perverts," Dick pouts. Of course the older man can't see, but he's sure Bruce knows.

"I distinctly remember you've done worse," Bruce says offhanded, reaches up to remove the nape of his dark auburn wig. Stops when Dick's hand touches him.

"Leave it."

Bruce gives him a surprised side glance, "And what does Rachel have in mind?"

Well Dick had nothing in mind, but the playful tone of Violet's voice has his hands pushing larger fingers out of the way to wrap around silky strands. To pull hard, expose a column of skin.

"Little Rachel," Dick breathes in foreign perfume hiding Bruce's scent, licks a strip on that neck, "Would like to play."

Bruce sighs when he sucks on the skin he's licked. Shudders when Dick's other hand lands on his chest, "And what game shall that be, little pet?"

"I'm sure we can figure something out," Dick fingers his way under the corset now loosening.

"Oh?" Bruce faces Dick. The dark make-up around his eyes makes his eyes shine sapphire, the red lipstick a tempting, teasing target.

Dick goes for it with fervor, covering Bruce's amused, curious lips. Massaging gloss soft lips with his own, holding powerful hips hidden under a thin slip of cloth.

He pulls back and flushes hard, so hard, with want.

The dark color forms a smear around wet lips. Almost, but not quite pornographic so Dick dives for more.

Dick pulls on a bottom lip, sucks on it. Loves the low, quiet whine that comes from Bruce's chest.

A need for air has Dick stepping back. His vision goes red around the edges, the blood in his veins pooling to his groin.

Bruce's eyes are blown, chest rapidly moving up and down with the pants escaping his tender lips. The space gives Bruce time to sweep his lips against his slick lips.

Dick groans, hates the pressure, so much want, rushes closer to rip off the dress in his way. The dress doesn't rip at first, but Bruce's frantic fingers clawing at Dick's back, at Dick's dress, makes him pull harder until they're both free. Aroused, so aroused. Skin red with blood and heat.

Bruce stands in nothing but a black lace panty, dick barely hidden and peaking through the top. His face debauched by a dark red slash of lipstick.

Dick hopes his smile is predatory as he slinks forward, pushing Bruce with a hand to his chest.

They hit something solid that makes the older man bend until he's lying flat on his back, with his legs resting comfortably around Dick's waist. The movement springs his shaft out of confinement, flushed red though still filling.

Dick wonders if he's salivating. Bruce's wig makes a halo around his head, almost red under fluorescent lights, contrasting with his white skin and the cool grey metal of the medical bay. Everything he has on draws Dick's eyesight to the best worst things, his eyes, his hair, his lips, his cock waiting for just a touch.

Dick bends down to Bruce's lips with a chaste peck, before kissing his way down a strong pectoral, sculpted abs, around his navel, and down down down with the dark trail of hair to huff and lick his way up his engorged cock.

Bruce calls Dick's name as he licks precome leaking from the tip and tongues the edges of the cockhead. His hips twitch a little when Dick puckers kiss wet lips before forcing the tip through, a hot hand supporting, jacking the shaft up and down.

The cave drowns with obscene sounds.

Dick moans around the cock in his mouth, moving, sucking, pulling the turgid flesh with his lips and teeth before letting it go deeper. Soft skin gives way, touches the edges of his lips and his mouth in every delicious pass. Bruce's incomplete words, breath hitches, grunts egg him on to go faster and take him deeper in his throat, touching the back as Dick's throat flexes from the foreign feeling. He feels Bruce rise little, lower abs rising, frustrating Dick as it shifts him away from his treat, he's not done not even close.

He looks up, maybe wails a little and doesn't give a fuck.

Bruce is flushed all the way, eyes full of hunger multiplied by the disguise. His arms shaking slightly as it supports his upper chest. His cock pointing up, twitching every time Dick's eyes wander down to stare.

"Enough," Bruce says after gulps of air.

"But we're not done," Dick winces, both from the pain of his jaw and the thought of leaving everything because of Bruce's moods.

Bruce lies back down, "The lubricant is the third drawer in the medicine cabinet."

Dick readies himself for a protest, stops with his mouth open and "Really?"

Bruce's dick bounces with the out of place. shaky laugh, "Yes."

"Oh god," Dick jumps to the cabinet, returns with a tube of lube and a condom. He stares at the instruments in his hands and the man splayed in front of him, his mind a distressing blank fuzz of lust.

"Staring will do nothing, Dick," Bruce's fingers rise to lower the lace panties resting against his balls, playing with them a little before resting on his cock, pumping lazily slow.

And Dick's taking none of that bland tone with his blood boiling and his cock straining. He places the lube and condom beside Bruce's hips to remove those fingers away from his prize. Bites and nibbles callused pads before releasing it above Bruce's head.

Uncaps the lube with a poignant click.

The gel is liquid cold, sticky slick and he should warm it, but Bruce's legs lift, feet resting on the metal table to bare his ass. And Dick blacks out a little, doesn't remember reaching or taking off the panties, he's so lost. He finds his fingers massaging that ring of strong twitching muscle.

Bruce breathes in deep as a finger goes in and Dick kisses a trembling knee.

And the heat is surprising, the delicate softness squeezing, addicting. Dick slowly pushes and pulls his finger until Bruce whispers more under his breath.

Dick pulls out and slathers more lube on his fingers before slowly entering with two and his lips mouthing Bruce's cock. And he scissors and crooks them as his lips go up and down, in tune. Adds a third when Bruce bumps him with an impatient knee.

Bruce makes no sound, but grunts and sighs until Dick feels a spongy mass of tissue that has him stretching off the table and his whole body shuddering Dick almost off of him.

"Wow," Dick kisses the cock one last time, removes his fingers with a plop and another shudder. The view is enough to jack off with for weeks, maybe months, but entering that tight heat…

Dick tears the condom packet open as carefully fast as he can, slips his forgotten panties off and saddles up to be between older man's thighs. Rests his hand and stiff shaft against Bruce's balls before looking up with uncertainty, "Are you sure?"

"Dick…" is all Bruce gets out with an exasperated tone before Dick's shoving in slowly, painfully careful, watching every nuance of Bruce's face. With Bruce's nod, he pulls out just as slowly, savoring the tight pull of muscle before thrusting back faster with an almost gasp from Bruce's lips.

Dick kisses Bruce's jawline as his hips quicken, snapping back and forth, table squeaking in sync and Bruce's fingers grasping at nothing. So Dick pulls them over his shoulders, to squeeze him with every pleasing thrust, slapping sounds of firm flesh against firmer ricocheting throughout the cave.

"Come on, Bruce," Dick urges them both on, wiping sweat on his brow against Bruce's chest, losing rhythm. Feeling every pore on his body open with heat, burning heat. Hyper sensitive of every gasping breath Bruce takes with each downward thrust, "Come for me, Daddy."

And that shouldn't have them both stiffening, with Bruce's name erupting from Dick's throat and Bruce's fingers scoring red scorching scratches across his back that has him thrusting a little more, but it does. As fucked up as their relationship, it does.

And they're okay.

So he rests his head against toned muscle, listening to a rapidly beating heart like his own, spent. Content. Warm.

"God damn, we should do that again," Dick laughs from his position. They should probably move before the others come home, but he's happy, too happy to ruin the moment.

"Perhaps," Bruce taps his cheek once before carding his fingers through Dick's sweaty hair in a languid pace.

"You promise," Dick rises to hold his face above Bruce with shaking tired arms, noting the open expression on the older man's face.

Bruce closes his eyes with exasperation, opens them with blue eyes clear and almost sober. Grabs Dick's head in one strong grip to bring it close, "Anything for you," he says against Dick's lips.

And a kiss that leaves Dick panting, straining, aching for more.


End file.
